


A Different Kind of Mark

by GayNidoKing



Series: ZevWarden Week 2020 [5]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blind Character, Established Relationship, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Polyamory, Tattoos, very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25093381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayNidoKing/pseuds/GayNidoKing
Summary: The topic of tattoos comes up between Zevran and his lovers.
Relationships: Alistair/Surana (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Zevran Arainai, Alistair/Zevran Arainai/Surana, Alistair/Zevran Arainai/Warden, Zevran Arainai/Surana, Zevran Arainai/Warden
Series: ZevWarden Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813810
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6
Collections: ZevWarden Week 2020





	A Different Kind of Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ZevWarden Week, Day 5: Antivan Bad Boy, Tattoos. 
> 
> Zevran/Laz/Alistair is my canon ship. I might slot this scene into Silver, Crimson, Black, when I get to that part of the story.

It was a rare night that all three of them had the evening to themselves. Usually Zevran or Alistair took first and second watch, with Laz joining second. Tonight, the straws were in their favor and they had all been able to retreat to Alistair’s tent (the biggest of the three of them, and the only one that could comfortably fit three people). As was happening more and more often, the initial rush of erotic impatience had cooled.

They sat in various degrees of undress (Laz, for once, the one wearing the least), still exchanging the occasional lingering kiss or heated touch. The initial heat of the moment had faded, and Zevran was pleasantly surprised that what remained was a comfortable, intimate conversation.

“Tell me what they look like,” Laz demanded.

Zevran was amazed she hadn’t ever asked this before. She knew he had tattoos, had even commented that she could feel the larger ones, but had never actually asked what they looked like in almost a year.

“Well, if you must know--” he began.

She laughed, cutting him off. She soothed the shock of her interruption with an outstretched hand, stroking his knuckles gently. She kissed the back of his hand and shook her head.

“Not you, Zev...I want to know what they _actually_ look like.” She turned to Alistair. “ _You_ tell me what they look like.”

“Oh, uh…” Alistair turned to him, face bright red as he obeyed her demand. Zevran couldn’t help himself, posing in a suitably enticing position to show off his tattoos. Despite the fact that they’d slept together several times, Alistair still had a charming air of innocence when he looked at Zevran’s naked body.

But Laz insisted again. One by one, Alistair listed Zevran’s tattoos, voice growing hoarser and face growing darker with every one. Zevran politely ignored his obviously growing arousal as he described what decorated Zevran’s chest, back, and legs. There weren’t too many, but Zevran knew they accentuated the curves and planes of his body. He had purposefully designed them that way.

“And there’s, uhh, two? On each hip. Kind of shaped like...flowers, maybe? And the stems kind of go down towards, uh…towards...”

Laz rescued him from the shame. “I know what’s below the hips.” She reached out and Zevran leaned in to let her touch each one in turn. Her hands lingered on his hips, searching. He doubted she would be able to find those ones: the lines were fine and the coloring delicate.

She looked up at him. “Did it hurt, to get so many?”

“Well I didn’t get them all at once.” He shuddered at the thought. He had a high tolerance for pain, but that might have been too much even for him. “Some of them were _years_ apart.”

“That makes more sense,” she said, expression distant. She was probably also imagining what a nightmare it would be to sit through that. “How old is your oldest one?”

“The first one I got was for the Crows.” That was on his shoulder blade, and it was more of a brand than a tattoo. “The oldest one I _chose_ , however, was the one on my face. That is the one that started it all.”

She sucked in her breath. “What a way to start,” she said softly. Her expression was softer, sadder, as she stroked her thumb over his hipbone.

“Did yours hurt?” Alistair asked. They’d explained to him the basics of tattoos, and sat with him through the initial squeamish response. He was fixated on the discomfort, and rightly so. “I’m talking to Laz,” he clarified, and she laughed.

“I figured,” she said. “And yes, it hurt like a motherfucker.”

"You know, you never did tell me the significance of it.” Zevran raised a finger and brushed the small, faded tattoo on her cheekbone. His own cheeks had been among the worst of his tattoos, and if she was anything like him, she wouldn’t have suffered such pain for the sake of simple adornment.

She raised a hand to cover his, looking thoughtful for a moment. “Oh, that was just a moment of... _youth_?” She laughed. “Spirits, when I say that, I sound so old. It was on a whim,” she admitted.

Something in her tone gave him pause. She didn’t sound like she was dismissing the foolish antics of a child. It sounded more like...bitterness.

“Do you regret it?” It was Alistair who spoke up, asking the question on both of their minds.

“Not at all,” she said carefully. “It’s just…silly?” She sounded uncertain. “You know when you’re a kid, and you have those stupid hopes?”

He and Alistair exchanged somewhat worried looks. It wasn’t often Laz called herself stupid, and when she did, it was usually opening the floodgates for much stronger, harsher words of self-deprecation.

“Children do strange things sometimes,” Zevran replied carefully. “But somehow I doubt you would tattoo your face on a whim.”

“You’d be surprised. I was, what...sixteen? One of the older mages knew how to give tattoos, and I had this...harebrained notion that if I had something to mark me, I could find my way home if I ever escaped the Circle.”

They both paused. Laz only rarely mentioned her dissatisfaction in the Circle, and she had never told them she’d ever thought of trying to escape it.

“What is it?” It was Alistair who spoke up, reaching up to add his finger to the growing pile on Laz’s face. “The design, I mean...what is it?”

“I had to do a lot of research, and I’m sure I did it wrong. But the city I grew up in had a...what’s the word...a crest? And the alienage I lived in had a variation of the crest that was flown at the gates. My father would describe it to me sometimes when we returned from shopping trips. I described it for Yosef, and after some time, and some research, he told me he was pretty sure he’d found what it was.” She brushed their hands away a bit nervously. “It was a pretty dumb idea, but I don’t really regret it. Even if that idea never worked out, it’s still nice to have something of home.”

Alistair wore his sorrow openly on his face, but Zevran kept his in his ribcage to be dealt with later. This wasn’t intended to be a depressing conversation.

He wasn’t the only one intent on lightening the mood. Laz turned her face to Zevran. “I want to know about the tattoos you have on _your_ face.”

“Oh? How do you know about those? Now who snitched?” He was obviously joking, but he still shot a look at Alistair for fun. The younger man sputtered and defended himself.

“You never said those were a secret!”

Zevran laughed. “I am teasing you. Yes, I do have tattoos on my face. They’re a simple enough design, not as detailed as yours.”

“They’re...elegant.” Alistair turned bright red as they both turned to look at him with identical teasing expressions. “What? They are. I like them.”

“Thank you, I’m rather fond of them myself.” Zevran leaned back. “They’re an homage to my parentage.”

He knew they would easily be able to decipher what that meant, and he preferred to let them. As much as he trusted them, there were still some things he preferred not to say aloud.

“Your mother?” Laz guessed.

“Exactly.” He supposed it was only fair that he allowed Alistair and Laz to raise their hands to his cheeks. They cradled his face between their two palms, both thumbing thoughtfully at his skin. “A small piece of her.”

For a moment he just sat there, basking in their shared touch and looks. There was no judgement here. They wouldn’t laugh at him for his sentimentality, or deride him for clinging to details of a woman that would never be there for him.

“I returned to the whorehouse and asked around,” he explained, |and got a vague idea of what my mother’s tattoos had looked like. I didn’t fancy having anything too intensive, and besides that I’m not Dalish. So I got something simpler. Similar, but simpler.”

Laz nodded. “I understand,” she said. “What about the others? Do they have stories too?”

That was a much easier topic of conversation, one that didn’t require him to put aside years of training and emotional roadblocks to participate in.

“Not really,” he admitted. “Many of them are simply for the sake of looking good. Sometimes you do things simply because you wish to look beautiful.”

“Some of them are similar in shape to the ones on his face,” Alistair helpfully spoke up.

“A coherent design is key to anything.” Zevran was proud of his body. He’d spent countless hours perfecting each design before he committed to putting it on his skin. “Not a single design is out of place. It’s a lot of work to look this good.”

“Really?” Laz leaned away, hand returning to her lap. “You make it seem so easy.”

She then turned her attention to Alistair, who blushed even deeper at her sudden scrutiny.

“What about you? Any tattoos, Alistair?” she asked teasingly. “Face? Chest? Back? I heard of one Templar who had one on his buttocks.”

“Uhh, no, I don’t have anything like that.” He swatted at her playfully roaming hand. “Hey, no looking around! You couldn’t see them even if I had them!”

“Well sure, but Zev could show me where they are.” She batted her eyes in Zevran’s directions.

“Alas,” Zevran confirmed, “our blushing love has no such adornment. Though I’ve told him before, he needs only ask.”

Alistair looked at him, a bit pale in the cheeks. “Wait, you were serious? You can actually do that?”

He grinned back. “I am no master, but I did learn the art. I could do something small for you.” He would have to get the tools, as he didn’t have them on him, but that was a simple ask. He leaned forward and tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps something heroic. What do you think would suit him, my love?”

Laz leaned in to the conversation eagerly. She eased the worst of Alistair’s anxiety by taking his grasping hand and squeezing. “Maybe something less depressing than ours,” she suggested. “Maybe a mabari?”

Alistair actually perked up at the suggestion. Never had Zevran seen a reaction so delightfully Ferelden. His own face twisted into something bordering on revulsion, but Alistair actually looked thoughtful.

“I do love mabari,” he agreed. “But that sounds like...a lot. Didn’t you say the more complicated ones hurt more?”

“They certainly take more time,” Zevran agreed. “You needn’t worry...I’ll be gentle.”

“I...you...thank you?” Alistair obviously understood Zevran’s teasing, and struggled to keep his composure.

“Although if you want it to have that paint...what is it called?”

“Kaddis,” Laz helpfully provided.

“Yes, that. If you would like it to have kaddis, it would be more painful.” Zevran tapped his knee thoughtfully. “Though you could always choose style over realism.”

“Like your flowers?”

“Like my flowers.”

Uncharacteristically playful, Laz scooted until she was almost in Alistair’s lap and continued talking. “Or maybe you can have something romantic.”

“Romantic?” It took Alistair a moment to come down from his canine-induced stupor.

“A naked woman, perhaps,” Zevran suggested in a purr. “Or a man...or perhaps both? I have seen such things before.”

Never one to pass up an opportunity to make Alistair squirm, he pressed himself against the man’s other side. He reached out and ran a hand over his chest, pushing aside the untied front of his shirt to reveal the skin underneath. It was by no means unmarked: scars and bruises crossed over his entire upper body.

As he predicted, Alistair began to fidget. His face and ears were dark red, but he made no attempts to get away from Zevran’s touch.

“Um, _no_ , I don’t think that kind of thing is quite what I…”

“A rose sounds lovely,” Laz suggested. She no doubt noticed how Alistair was twitching and squeaking, but she didn’t acknowledge it. “Perhaps we should match, then. I certainly have the space. A reminder of how we started. What do you think? Over your heart, maybe?”

Alistair looked at her, and for a moment the two of them were lost in their own world. Zevran hummed in his throat. For a second, he felt an unwelcome pang of...jealousy? Envy? He and Laz had been together first, but there was still something _different_ between her and Alistair.

Alistair spoke up and crushed his doubt immediately.

“Well, where would Zevran put his? He already has one on his chest. It’ll look weird.”

Warmth blossomed in Zevran’s chest. He slipped his hand into Alistair’s shirt and dragged it down the man’s side.

He let himself think about it. He had never gotten a tattoo for a lover before. They were permanent, and there was no guarantee that any affair ever would be. But the thought of it...thrilled him. Warmed him. He looked at Alistair’s bared chest and imagined it. He was right, it would look odd among Zevran’s other tattoos, throwing off the symmetry he had up to this point maintained.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he said thoughtfully.

“Wait, I thought you said it was important to look perfect!”

“My dear Alistair,” Zevran hummed, “I think you would know by now that I would gladly look a fool for you.”

He met Alistair’s gaze and saw his own terror and adoration reflected there. Hidden as it was in this casual talk, he had never made such a bold claim of affection before.

Laz rescued them from drowning in their own hearts. “Obviously my opinion means very little,” she started, “but if you like it, who cares if it looks foolish?”

“She is right,” Zevran confirmed. “Though I will have to find someone to do mine.”

“Can you not do it yourself?” Alistair looked genuinely confused.

Laughing, Zevran pantomimed trying to draw on his own chest. “I _could_ , if I wanted it to look horrendous. I’m flexible, but not quite that flexible.”

Alistair reached out and pressed his palm against Zevran’s bare chest, directly over his heart.

“I...it wouldn’t match the rest of your tattoos, but I think it would look...nice.” His cheeks were burning again, and he wasn’t meeting Zevran’s eyes. “I think I would like that…”

Before he could fully think through what he was promising, Zevran said, “Then I will see to it. If you wish it.”

Alistair hesitated for only a moment, looking at Laz’s bare chest (lingering a bit longer than necessary.) “ _I_ wish it.”

“I wish it,” Laz parroted.

“Then it shall be done,” he promised.

The look Alistair gave him was so unflinchingly genuine that it robbed him of his words. Mind blank, he closed the gap between them, kissing the man deeply. Alistair’s hands immediately rose up to his chest, tracing the marks that had sparked the entire conversation. Zevran leaned eagerly into the touch, shifting so that he was half in Alistair’s lap.

“Now...I believe, once upon a time, we were in the middle of something very important…”

Alistair’s hands squeezed at his hips, still a bit nervous and uncertain, but he met Zevran’s gaze steadily.

“I...I believe we were,” he replied, voice thick.

“Shall I give you two some privacy?” There was no hint of jealousy in Laz’s voice, only amusement and arousal.

“Absolutely not,” Zevran protested, at the same moment that Alistair rushed to assure her. “You wanted Alistair to show you all of my tattoos, didn’t you? I would not deprive you of that pleasure.”

She laughed and moved behind him. Her hands joined Alistair’s, cold and gentle on Zevran’s back, and he gave in to a night of being _thoroughly_ explored.

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being a bit more Zevran/Alistair and Zevran/Laz, but listen....Zevistair is my lifeblood.


End file.
